Paean

How often have we seen the flowers tuck themselves asleep?

How often have we contemplated solitude while sitting in the vastness of the night?

How often have we watched the sky's melting colors while twilight raveled and furled,
how often walked or glided through silent neighborhoods,
how often stood to resonate with a faint and distant hum?

Too often to count, to know, to feel except as a limitless expanse of slowly contracted subtleties—
The night, the stars or tinted dome of clouds, soft breathing, slow steady pulse!

And yet how often have we woken, unwound our cocoons, and risen
to watch light bloom triumphantly from every angle of the sky?

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